


A Christmas Delivery

by owlways_and_forever



Category: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Childbirth, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Post-Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Darcy is away at the annual Netherfield Christmas Party, leaving Elizabeth alone in a snowstorm, and expecting their first child.A little bit of Christmas fluff to kick off the Christmas writing season.





	A Christmas Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first attempt at writing P&P (or at least finishing & posting it), and I hope I do the characters justice. But I just needed a little bit of Christmas fluff today, so this was begging to be written.

Elizabeth stood by the window, watching as snow fell softly to the ground, enveloping the world in a blanket of silence. Darcy should have been home by now, and she was beginning to grow worried. It was possible that the snow had just kept him at Netherfield with Jane and Charles, but Elizabeth thought it was far more likely that Darcy had insisted on making his way home to her. He hated leaving her alone overnight, and Elizabeth was not overfond of it either. They’d hardly spent a night apart since they were married. What if something had happened to him? His carriage could have been run off the road, or gotten stuck in the snow. He could be sitting and freezing as she stood there, waiting. She hated the waiting. Her whole life seemed to be waiting now. Waiting for Darcy to return home, waiting for this baby to arrive. Elizabeth ran her hand over her large belly, crossing the room and sinking into the large armchair by the fire.

She had begged Darcy not to go to Netherfield. She was far too close to her confinement to travel so far, no matter how much she wished to, and she didn’t want to be left alone at Pemberley. But he had insisted that they had presents for little Charlie and baby Henrietta from their trip to Paris two months ago, and they needed to be delivered. Besides, several of Darcy’s colleagues would be at the Christmas party, and he had business with them that needed attending. 

Elizabeth groaned, the stress of worrying over Darcy giving her pains, and for a fleeting moment she thought her mother might not have been crazy with her smelling salts after all. She tried to close her eyes, hoping that the warmth of the fireplace might lull her to sleep, but her body had no such plans. Her stomach clenched painfully, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth until it passed, knuckles white against the arms of the chair she was sitting in.

“Mrs. Reynolds!” she called when the pain had subsided somewhat, and she pushed herself up from the chair with great difficulty. “Mrs. Reynolds!”

“Yes, ma’am?” the housekeeper answered, appearing in the doorway of the library. How she always seemed to hear Elizabeth no matter where she was in the house, Elizabeth would never understand.

“Please send for Dr. Whitby,” Elizabeth directed, struggling toward the door. “I’m a bit anxious about Mr. Darcy’s journey, and I don’t want to upset the baby. I would be most appreciative if he could bring me something to calm my nerves a bit. I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” Mrs. Reynolds replied, sweeping from the room.

Moments later, Isabella, her lady’s maid, appeared, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and offering as much support as she could.

“May I assist you ma’am?” she asked, although she had already taken the initiative to do so.

“Yes please, Isabella, to the bedroom if you will,” Elizabeth said, leaning on her as much as possible.

They moved down the hall together, slowly, every now and then stopping so Elizabeth could breathe through another pain. The more spasms she felt, the more Elizabeth began to worry about her child, desperately hoping that it would not choose to appear this night, in the middle of a snowstorm and with Darcy missing. They made it to the bedroom, and Isabella made quick work of loosening Elizabeth’s dress, until it slid to the floor in a puddle around her feet. She slid her dressing gown onto her shoulders, and Elizabeth tied it around her belly, before sinking onto her bed. She felt the cold suddenly, despite the fire roaring in the fireplace, and shivered, pulling her blankets up around her shoulder.

It felt like hours passed before Dr. Whitby arrived, holding his little black medical bag. His assistant, Tom, stood behind him, holding a larger bag, and grinning goofily at Isabella.

“I apologize for the delay, Mrs. Darcy,” Dr. Whitby said, and Elizabeth grimaced. In nearly four years of marriage, she still had not gotten used to being called Darcy instead of Bennet. “Let us see what I can do for you.”

He spent several minutes examining her, taking her pulse and checking her belly, before he was ready to issue a diagnosis.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he said with a broad grin, “I think it is about time for you to meet your child.”

“I can’t,” Elizabeth replied almost reflexively, her heart pounding, “not without Darcy, I need him here.”

“My dear lady, babies wait for no man,” Dr. Whitby answered with a wry smile. “Besides, you would not want your husband to witness this anyway.”

“Ma’am, you must,” Isabella encouraged, reaching out and taking her hand.

Elizabeth nodded, steeling herself for what would come next. Dr. Whitby and Tom began bustling about, occasionally recruiting Mrs. Reynolds or Isabella to assist in the preparations. She felt as though she were in a daze as they whirled around, whisking in and out of the room, and she tried to focus on preparing her mind. Yet two thoughts kept running through her mind – first, that it was too soon, and her child would be unwell, and second, that she needed Darcy with her. She could not help but worry that this night would be the end of their little family.

“Mrs. Darcy, are you ready?” Dr. Whitby asked at last, taking Elizabeth’s hand with a reassuring smile.

Dr. Whitby and Tom helped lift Elizabeth from her bed, escorting her to the birthing bed that they had purchased some time ago, the first time they had thought she might be with child. She had nearly cried when the table had arrived, by which time she had discovered that it was not to be. They had offered it to Jane to use, though neither family’s wealth necessitated that they share – it had seemed only fitting for two sisters so closely bonded. Now it was her turn to climb onto the birthing table and labor to bring her child into the world.

Isabella squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as she pulled her shift up above Elizabeth’s large belly, and Elizabeth hugged her knees to her chest as best she was able, feeling the urge to push her child out. But it was slow going, and the child did not seem to want to budge, despite her best efforts, crying out with the strain of it. After over an hour of laboring, Elizabeth pushed herself up and onto her knees, not caring what was dignified for a lady of her station.

“Listen to what your body tells you,” Dr. Whitby advised, though his tone of voice clearly exposed his shock.

Her fingers dug into the edge of the table, knuckles white as every muscle in her body seemed to clamp down, urging this child out. She could not see, but she felt as though finally she were making progress.

“Nearly there, ma’am,” Isabella spurred, and Dr. Whitby repeated the encouragement.

It took only a few moments longer, and then Elizabeth knew that she had done it. Relief flooded through her that the ordeal was finally over, but it was swiftly replaced by concern. She had not heard the baby cry yet, and she feared for the worst. She dropped her hips to the table, turning to face Dr. Whitby, and wincing in discomfort as she attempted to sit up. She could see a bundle in Mrs. Reynolds’ arms, with Tom attending it, while Dr. Whitby attempted to get Elizabeth’s attention. 

“My child –“ 

“Mrs. Darcy, we still must deliver the placenta,” he argued, but her focus was solely on the bundle in Mrs. Reynolds’ care.

“Tell me, is my baby –“

“Mrs. Darcy, please –“

Cries sounded from the bundle of blankets, and Elizabeth dropped backwards in relief. Her child was alive. She felt weak from the effort of labor and the relief that her baby seemed to have been safely delivered, and she hardly noticed that Dr. Whitby was still at work between her legs, trying to extract the placenta. Jane had been able to deliver it naturally, which was preferred, but Elizabeth did not feel strong enough for that, and she was glad that Dr. Whitby had taken the initiative.

“Ma’am?” Tom said, hesitantly, approaching Elizabeth’s head. “You have a daughter. She is perhaps a bit small, but on the whole appears to be fighting fit.”

“Can I see her?” Elizabeth asked, tears of joy streaming down her face.

“Once you have both been cleaned up a bit, ma’am,” Tom reassured her. “We’ll get you back to bed and then you may hold her to your heart’s content.”

Isabella helped Elizabeth change into a clean shift and climb into bed, getting settled softly amidst the mounds of pillows. She looked over to Tom expectantly, and he drew nearer, gently laying her baby girl in her arms. Elizabeth sighed happily as she felt immediately more complete. Her daughter was beautiful, smelled beautiful. She had pink skin and a layer of dark fuzz atop her head, little rosebud lips opening in a tiny little yawn. Elizabeth stroked her daughter’s small hand, letting the baby’s fist close around the tip of her finger, and smiled wistfully. Darcy should have been there to see this, he should have been there for his daughter’s birth. Once more, Elizabeth was struck with concern that he would not make it home to her, and a tear slid down her cheek. This time, she was unsure whether it was a tear of joy or sorrow.

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and Elizabeth could hear footsteps pounding across the marble floor of the sculpture room. Her heartbeat quickened to match the footsteps, and she sat up a little bit straighter, praying that whoever it was had news of her husband.

“Elizabeth!" 

She heart the voice and knew at once that it belonged to her husband, tears of relief falling fast. Somehow, he was safe, and though he had missed their daughter’s birth, he was there now.

“Elizabeth!” he sighed, bursting into their bedroom and rushing to the bed, where she reclined, their baby in her arms. “What is it, what’s amiss?” he asked when he saw the tears on his wife’s face.

“What’s amiss is that you weren’t present at your own daughter’s birth,” Elizabeth sighed, teasingly reprimanding her husband.

“My daughter,” he sighed, turning his attention to the baby for the first time. “Our daughter.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Elizabeth asked, but Darcy looked at her with trepidation. “Oh, don’t be silly, you’ve held a baby before, you won’t break her.”

“I know,” he admitted, moving to sit next to her on the bed. 

Elizabeth twisted slowly, handing their daughter to Darcy, and she watched as his eyes grew wide with amazement and affection. He seemed to stop breathing as he looked at his soundly sleeping daughter. Seeing them together, Elizabeth thought that the baby had much more of Darcy’s looks then her own, but she didn’t mind that one bit.

“My love, she is positively perfect,” Darcy breathed, barely tearing his eyes away from the baby.

“You’re not disappointed she is a girl?” Elizabeth asked, though she had little anxiety about the matter. Darcy was not the type to cast aside his child just for being a girl.

“Not in the least, she is the best Christmas gift I could have hoped for,” he answered, meeting her eyes. Elizabeth could see that he was already so in love with their child, and her heart swelled.

“She needs a name,” Elizabeth said quietly, resting her head on Darcy’s shoulder, and reaching out to draw a finger lightly across the baby’s soft cheek. “I was thinking Anne, after your mother.”

Darcy wrinkled his nose, ruffling the baby’s hair. His disliked the name Anne, even if it was his mother’s. He associated it more with his cousin and her hateful mother, and he didn’t much want the baby to have that burden.

“Perhaps Jane, after your sister?” he suggested, but Elizabeth shook her head.

They both thought in silence for a few minutes, trying to think of the right name for their beautiful little girl.

“Alice,” Elizabeth said at last, looking fondly at their daughter.

“Alice Anne Darcy,” he replied, smile spreading.

“It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, and Elizabeth yawned, the exhaustion of the night catching up with her at last. “Rest, my love, I shall stay with Alice.”

Elizabeth adjusted until she was lying down, still snuggled close to Darcy and keeping one hand on her new daughter. As she drifted into sleep, she heard her husband talking softly.

“Hello, my darling Alice, I am very pleased to meet you. I am your papa, and I love you very much, you and your wonderful mama.”


End file.
